Browsed byCategory: Posts By Leah

“You’re so strong.” “How do you do it? How do you keep a good attitude when your child died?” “How can you even smile, or laugh, or have hope?” “You’re so brave. I couldn’t handle losing my child.” I know these word and questions are meant with love. I know they’re meant to build me up. I know you’re just trying to let me know that you’re proud of me. But friends, sometimes these words crush my heart. These words and these…

It’s currently 4:24am and it’s one of those nights when I just can’t seem to fall asleep. My mind begins racing each time I close my eyes. Most of these thoughts are flashbacks, and not of the pleasant kind. They’re the memories that I try hardest not to fall into during the day because if I do, it’s hard to function. The feelings provoked by certain recollections about losing Ava are ones I couldn’t explain regardless of how hard I…

Thanksgiving should be a time to reflect on all of the blessings that the past year has brought, and to be honest I really have to stop and dig deep to remember the things I have to be thankful for. To put it bluntly, I feel like life stabbed a knife in our hearts this past July and has been slowly twisting it ever since. It’s been one thing after another, after another, after another. But I’m learning that while…

We got our first taste of what holidays are going to be like without Ava on Halloween yesterday. I really didn’t think Halloween would bother me too much since I’ve never been a big fan of the holiday anyway. My goal over the last month has just been to get through October 25th; Ava’s due date. Part of me believed that once I was past the day she should have been born that a small weight would be lifted off…

I’ve had a terrible day, and I don’t feel much like writing. It’s been one of those days where everything hit me all at once and I broke. Most days I usually force myself to get up and do something, anything to feel at least somewhat productive each day. Today, I did nothing. I laid in bed, and I let the tears flow freely. It was one of those days where I felt like losing Ava wasn’t ever going to…

Aveline Mae Thompson. Who is she? She is my first born. She is forever 34 hours and 41 minutes old. She is her daddy’s girl – evident by her firm grasp to his finger, her reaching arms for his hand. She is beautiful brown hair, soft skin, perfect little nose and lips. She is a fighter – she held onto life long enough to meet our family, long enough to allow us to embrace her beauty and her presence. She…

Sunrise: 7:41 am in Mattawan, Michigan. Beautiful, isn’t it? It seems like Michigan never fails to disappoint its residents in terms of weather. I woke up frantic because it seemed like I had been sleeping forever, and I was worried we had missed the sunrise. Thankfully, it was only 7:25 am. Ryan and I dragged ourselves out of bed and stepped outside. It was gloomy and our house is surrounded by trees, making it almost impossible to see a glimpse…

It’s mind blowing to me how much grief is ever-changing. The first few weeks after Ava died, my grief tended to focus on my yearning to hold her, feed her, watch her sleep, and hold her little hands. I imagined her solely in her newborn state; completely dependent on mommy and daddy for everything. Tiny and helpless. Initially it was hard to imagine Ava as anything other than a newborn baby. I didn’t envision her as a toddler learning to…

I’ve dreaded writing lately. Yet another problem with a public blog; everyone can read it — this includes family members, friends, people who’ve hurt you, people you’re angry with, people you’ll hurt if you write exactly how you feel. I truly have always been a peacekeeper (certain people will disagree, but I think it’s true). Sometimes I voice my opinion about things that upset me or things I don’t agree with, but 99% of the time, I eventually give in…

Tomorrow is our four year anniversary. It feels like forty years; for so many reasons. The story of Ryan and I meeting and “dating” is a complicated one. We entered the relationship equally broken, but in different ways. I had a history of bad relationships, and he had a history of drug abuse. A match made in hell. As it always goes, our relationship was perfect for the first couple of years. Hopeless romantics. Meant to be. So in love….